


keeps on growing (slipping through my fingers)

by magicandlight



Series: The States [40]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Statetalia
Genre: America is a Good Parent, Fluff, Gen, Russia WILL be a Good Parent, Sasha is a Cinnamon Roll, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22593265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicandlight/pseuds/magicandlight
Summary: Sometimes Alfred looks at Ivan during meetings and wonders if he would be a good father. If he could be trusted with Sasha's fragile hopes and dreams and adoration or if he would crush it to spite America.
Relationships: America & Alaska (Hetalia)
Series: The States [40]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/788712
Comments: 14
Kudos: 78





	keeps on growing (slipping through my fingers)

"Can you tell me about my other dad?" Sasha asks. 

Alfred's heard that question more times than he can count. From Nicky, from Ginny, from Monty and Caden and Flora and Scarlett and Del, on and on. 

It's dangerous to be entertaining Sasha with stories about Russia when him and Alfred are tossing words like _mutually assured destruction_ around, but Alfred has always been soft-hearted. 

"What do you want to know?"

🙜

Sasha looks more like Ivan, like _Russia_ , than he looks like Alfred. Which is okay, most of his states don't look like him. 

It does mean that Sasha doesn't come with him to work often, though, because the President always gives him a _look_ that makes Alfred want to break things. 

It means that sometimes Alfred looks at Ivan during meetings and wonders if he would be a good father. If he could be trusted with Sasha's fragile hopes and dreams and adoration or if he would crush it to spite Alfred, _America._

And then Ivan catches him staring at him and smirks and says something and Ludwig and Matthew have to drag them apart. 

🙜

Sasha and Lani both have boxes in one of the storage rooms, that belong to them even if their names aren't written on them. 

Sometimes, Alfred will pull them out, will think _this is the day I give them these_ , and then he sets them on his desk and drinks, and Sera always puts them back.

🙜

Alfred and Ivan used to be friends. Good enough friends that Alfred considered telling him. 

Possibly, at one point, a little more than friends. Almost something _real_.

And then history and geography had gotten in the way, and that was it. 

Alfred does not tell Sasha this, though. He doesn't tell any of his states this, but some of the older ones, the ones who were around know this. 

🙜

Sasha might be as tall as Ivan one day, but for now, he's still small enough to climb into Alfred's bed after a nightmare. 

It's alright. Alfred was expecting him, anyway. Sasha too young to fully control what he projects to Alfred. 

Alfred's gotten used to the flashes of nightmares from child states, and though it's still a little unsettling, they're not as bad as when he used to get flickers of nightmares from the originals. Alfred's learned to block out most of the accidental projections. Now, it's less a wide-open front door for anything to stroll in and more of the cracked door of a parent listening in case they're called. He still listens out for the worst of them, for fire in Sera's and suffocating darkness in Will's.

Sasha's nightmares are usually about bone-deep cold and white as far as the eye can see, and Alfred prays that he'll never have one about death and destruction and nuclear winter. 

🙜

Alfred taught every single one of his kids to play the piano, because Alfred had learned when he was nothing more than a colony and sometimes he's nostalgic and it's a good ability to have. 

He has fond memories of Oliver, too short to reach the pedals, frowning as he determinedly banged his way through Ode to Joy. Although he'd been furious at the time, he has fond memories of Tim and Kendall carving their names into one of the legs of the piano, too. 

So here he is, once again, Lani and Sasha sitting on either side of him. 

And the fateful question: "Did my mom play piano?" Lani asks. 

Alfred pauses, trying to remember. "I'm not sure." He finally admits and tries not to take Lani's crestfallen expression as a personal failure. "She could sing," he offers her like a condolence prize.

Sasha gives him a hopeful look. "Does my dad?"

"Yes," Alfred answers, the satisfaction of seeing Sasha smile bittersweet. 

🙜

Brooke teaches Sasha Russian because she says it is his right to speak it if he pleases, just as she speaks Dutch, no matter what may be going on in the world. 

Alfred doesn't tell her not to. She's right, after all. Alfred could never tell Sasha he can't speak his father's language. He won't be like Arthur, with his disappointed looks every time Matthew spoke French. He won't be like Antonio, with red handprints marking Alejandra's face every time she tried to speak Nahuatl. 

Sasha spends a day in Sera's office sitting at her desk conjugating verbs and when Johnson finds out, he yells at Alfred about keeping his states in line. 

Congressmen and senators and a president had yelled about the same things during the civil war. _"Can't you control your children?" "Can't you make them stay?"_

Alfred takes the verbal thrashing silently, and then goes home and lets Sasha sit on the counter while he makes dinner and babble in Russian while Alfred corrects his pronunciation and sentence structure anyway. 

🙜

Sasha's always been close to Brooke, so Alfred thinks nothing of it when he asks to come with him when he goes to New York for the meeting to visit her. 

He's on his lunch break when Brooke and Will come in, panicked in a way he rarely sees. 

"Sasha's run away," Brooke says, smacking a note down on the table. "He says he's going to meet Russia."

Icy dread rushes over him, and Alfred doesn't even stop to think, just dumps his food into the trash and _runs_. 

🙜

Alfred's relieved to find Sasha sitting with Ivan in one of the meeting rooms, unharmed and not visibly distressed. 

Ivan looks at him, face carefully devoid of emotion. 

Alfred pulls his youngest son into his arms, squeezing him tightly. "Sasha, _don't you ever do that again_. Do you know how worried I was?" 

"Amerika, I believe we need to talk," Ivan says.

Alfred swallows and sets Sasha down, brushing his ash-blond bangs out his eyes. "Hey, I need you to sit down while me and your dad go talk, okay?"

Sasha nods and Alfred smiles. 

He smiles all the way until he and Ivan step into the adjoining observation room and close the door.

Ivan slams him into the wall. "How dare you keep him from me." He growls out, and Alfred pushes him back. 

"Yeah, what was I supposed to say? Oh, Ivan, here's your old colony, maybe don't point nukes at him or his siblings?"

"Siblings?"

Alfred freezes at the realization. _Oh god_ , he'd only known about Sasha. He hadn't known about the others. 

"There's one for each state then?" Ivan continues when he's silent for too long. 

Quick, quick, compromise, keep them as safe as he can-

"You can have visitation rights," Alfred spits out like the words are poisonous. "Supervised. You tell anyone, or hurt him, or do anything that might endanger my children _and I will break every single bone in your body_."

Ivan's jaw clenches, but he sticks out his hand. 

Alfred shakes it, wondering if he's making a deal with the devil, and if so, what the cost will be. 

🙜

News spreads quickly across the nation, and the week Ivan's due to visit, Alfred finds himself with a full house. 

He's upstairs helping Cait repaint her door when the doorbell rings. He nearly trips down the stairs to get there first, and it doesn't matter because he's too late. 

Scarlett's actually a decent height, but she looks tiny standing in right of Ivan with her arms crossed. 

Ivan, for his part, just looks confused. 

"Scarlett, stop threatening him." 

Scarlett gives Alfred a look, then turns back to Ivan. "I have a sword."

Ivan gives Alfred a very confused and concerned look. "...Alright?"

Alfred rolls his eyes, ruffling Scarlett's hair as he pulls her back out of the doorway. 

Ivan looks at him expectantly, and it takes a meaningful glance at Scarlett before Alfred realizes what he wants. "Oh! Um, this is Scarlett. My Georgia."

"You made Flora have a panic attack." Scarlett hissed accusingly, eyes narrowed dangerously, and Alfred began to wonder if he should be worried about another rattlesnake-in-the-mail incident. 

Alfred clears his throat. "Um. I guess you can come in. I'm not sure where Sasha is, but-"

Ivan's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Sasha?" 

Alfred shots Ivan a confused look of his own. "Alexander? Anyway, I guess I'll find him."

🙜

Despite Alfred hinting and then flat-out stating that he'd prefer if Ivan waited in the main living room downstairs, he trails after him through the house. 

It makes him feel antsy when Ivan stops to look at the wall covered in handprints of various colors or the stars with names painted on them or the various photos throughout the house. 

"This one is Arthur's?"

Alfred doesn't even have to look to see who he's pointing to. "Yeah, that's Massachusetts."

Ivan is analyzing the photos hanging on the wall. Alfred tilts his head and looks at them too, trying to see what Ivan sees. 

There's a black and white photo of David and Cordelia leaning against one of their fighter planes, Leo's and Christina's graduation photos, one of Flora and Scarlett dancing at their wedding, Ginny and Wes playing violin in the library. 

Years of memories immortalized in photographs. 

One of the picture frames displays a photo of Sasha, younger and with a gap-toothed smile, holding a puppy up towards the camera. 

Ivan touches the frame gently as if he's afraid to break it, and that's when Alfred knows this will be alright. 


End file.
